Welcome, fellow wanderers, to this week’s Wildcard Wanderings! Today, I’m diving into a topic that’s often messy, sometimes heartbreaking, but ultimately filled with invaluable lessons: failing at love. Specifically, I want to talk about my own journey as a gay man, a monogamy-centered guy who, after a long, incredibly difficult relationship that began in my youth, found myself truly “out in the dating scene” for the very first time in my early 30s. It’s a path that has certainly included its share of stings, but also moments of profound learning and the enduring hope for my own personal honey.
My Lost Decade (and a Half): Learning What Love Isn’t
For a significant portion of my life – specifically, from age 18 until I was 32 – I was entangled in a relationship that, looking back with clearer eyes and a mended heart, was less about mutual growth and more about quiet, insidious deterioration. It wasn’t just stagnation; it was a painful education in what love isn’t.
In the course of that relationship, I was cheated on a multitude of times, each infidelity a fresh wound, eroding trust and self-worth. Beyond the betrayals, I sustained mostly psychological and verbal abuse, a constant drip of corrosive criticism and manipulation that chipped away at my spirit. There were also, terrifyingly, a few periods of actual physical violence, stark reminders of the volatile and unpredictable nature of the partnership. He was a damaged person, battling his own demons, including significant problems with alcohol, which only fueled the instability and pain.
My biggest regret, the loudest buzz in my head when I reflect on that time, is that I shouldn’t have stayed. I prioritized loyalty, familiarity, or perhaps a desperate hope that things would get better, over my own well-being and happiness. I normalized compromise to the point of self-erasure, mistook constant drama for passion, and confused sheer staying power with genuine happiness. I learned, in the hardest possible ways, that love wasn’t constant walking on eggshells, it wasn’t a consistent ache of loneliness, and it certainly wasn’t the feeling of perpetually being unfulfilled, unsafe, or unheard within the partnership itself. It was a “hive” that, instead of producing sweet nectar, left me feeling emotionally drained, psychologically battered, and constantly questioning my own worth. Finally, when I found out about the infidelity again – one too many times – the fragile structure completely shattered, and I made the agonizing, but necessary, decision to leave.
A Late Bloom in the Dating Garden: The Challenges of Finding My Honey Now
Stepping back into the dating world after such a long absence – after being in a relationship from essentially the end of my adolescence into my early 30s – felt utterly daunting. It was a completely foreign landscape. I had never truly been alone in my adult life, and I had never really “dated” in the conventional sense. My first relationship had simply happened in my teens. Now, here I was, in my early 30s, essentially a novice in the complex garden of gay dating, at an age when many of my gay peers seemed to be settling down, or already settled, or embracing a more fluid, non-monogamous lifestyle. It felt like being a late-blooming flower in a vibrant garden, unsure if any worker bee would ever notice me, let alone want to build a shared hive.
The landscape of gay dating, as I’ve explored before in The Opinionated Sting, often feels like a Peter Pan’s Neverland – full of “lost boys” who prefer to fly free, avoiding the gravity of commitment. For someone like me, who deeply desires a singular, committed, monogamous partnership, this has presented a unique set of challenges, amplified by my past trauma and my inexperience with dating as a truly single adult:
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Navigating a Culture of Casualness: The prevailing culture, especially on dating apps, can feel overwhelmingly geared towards casual encounters, open relationships, or fluid situationships. While I genuinely don’t judge those choices for others (you do you, find your nectar where you may!), it means constantly sifting through profiles and conversations to find the rare few who explicitly state they’re looking for monogamy. It’s like trying to find a specific, rare pollen in a vast, incredibly diverse field, requiring immense patience and a sharp filter.
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The “Expiration Date” Anxiety (and Post-Trauma Dating): While I’m now in my early 30s, not late, the echoes of the “expiration date” anxiety (as I’ve called it) still resonate. There’s a subtle pressure, particularly within some corners of the gay community, that suggests your “prime” dating years might be slipping away, or that genuine connection becomes harder to forge after a certain age. This combines with the very real emotional baggage from my past relationship – trust issues, a deep fear of repeating old patterns of abuse or infidelity, and a heightened, almost hyper-vigilant awareness of red flags. This makes the process of truly opening up, being vulnerable, and connecting feel incredibly slower and more cautious. Every new interaction carries a hidden layer of emotional risk.
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Finding the Right Fit (Beyond Just Monogamy): It’s not just about finding someone who wants monogamy; it’s about finding someone who wants my kind of monogamy, and who is truly compatible with the complex, multi-faceted individual I am. Someone who truly connects on an emotional, intellectual, and physical level. Someone who has a brain that sparks my interest, a personality that keeps me genuinely interested, and a depth of character that makes them willing to “put up” with all my delightful quirks and my complex past (as a gay, liberal, atheist, RN, cancer survivor, and lover of old TV shows – I’m a lot, I know!). It’s about finding that unique, rare blend of shared values, mutual respect, undeniable chemistry, and profound emotional intelligence that forms the resilient foundation of a true, healthy partnership. It’s harder than any raid boss in WoW, and far more emotionally demanding!
The Lessons Learned: My Growing Wisdom and Blooming Resilience
Despite the immense challenges and the often-painful process, this journey of failing at love and then tentatively re-entering the dating world as a truly single adult has been incredibly transformative. It’s forged me anew, turning bitter stings into hard-won wisdom, the truest, most valuable nectar of experience:
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Self-Worth is Non-Negotiable and Internally Derived: The most monumental lesson learned, forged in the fires of infidelity and abuse, is that my value, my happiness, and my worth are absolutely not tied to being in a relationship, or to someone else’s approval, validation, or presence. My happiness cannot be outsourced to another person. This profound self-discovery, fueled by the painful but necessary end of my long-term relationship, has been my greatest triumph. I now understand the kind of nectar I deserve to seek out, and I have an unwavering commitment to refusing to settle for anything less than genuine respect, honesty, and mutual fulfillment.
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Clarity is Kindness (and a Time-Saver): Being upfront and unequivocally honest about my desire for a monogamous, committed partnership from the very beginning of any interaction, even if it might “scare” some people away, is absolutely essential. It saves both parties immense time, emotional energy, and potential heartbreak down the line. I’m no longer willing to subtly hint, hope someone will change their mind, or tiptoe around my core desires. Direct, respectful communication about my needs and intentions is now my non-negotiable policy; it’s a profound act of self-respect.
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My Authenticity is My Unstoppable Strength: Trying to hide parts of myself, or constantly contort my personality and desires into a shape someone else desired, only led to misery, resentment, and a profound sense of self-betrayal. Embracing my entire identity as a complex, multi-faceted individual – gay, an RN, a cancer survivor, a lover of old pop culture, a political liberal, an atheist – is my power. It’s what makes me, me. The right person, my true honey, will love all of me, with all my layers and history, and those who don’t are simply not the right fit for my hive. Authenticity is my ultimate filter.
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Friendship is the Ultimate Love (and the Core of My Hive): While I continue to seek a romantic partnership, this difficult journey has profoundly reinforced the immeasurable value and life-sustaining power of my chosen family. They are my steadfast, unwavering hive, providing unconditional love, unwavering support, understanding, laughter, and a profound sense of belonging. Their consistent presence reminds me that love exists in myriad forms, and nurturing these deep, genuine bonds is absolutely essential for a rich, full, and meaningful life, regardless of my romantic status. They provide the foundational, enduring nectar of my existence, and I am eternally grateful for them.
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Hope is a Daily Practice, Not a Guarantee: Even after failed dates, disappointing connections, moments of vulnerability that didn’t land, and the occasional feeling of despair or cynicism creeping in, I actively choose hope. I practice it daily. I believe that my person is out there, that they are also searching for me, and that our paths will eventually, beautifully, genuinely cross. It’s a quiet, persistent buzz within my soul, a deep-seated belief that true connection, profound intimacy, and a healthy, respectful love are ultimately worth every challenge, every wait, and every search. It’s a commitment to believing in the possibility of genuine honey, even when the search feels long.
So, here I am, still navigating the vibrant, sometimes bewildering, dating pollen patch in my late 30s. It’s a different kind of adventure now, one that requires immense patience, profound resilience, unwavering self-awareness, and an uncompromising commitment to self-love. But I’m no longer a lost, aimlessly searching worker bee driven by desperation; I’m a seasoned Bee, wise from past stings, clear on my worth, and confidently cultivating the life I want, knowing that the right kind of honey – one that’s truly meant for my hive – will eventually find its way to me.
Have you experienced a “late bloomer” journey in love, or learned profound, perhaps painful, lessons from past relationships that ultimately led you to greater self-understanding? Share your insights, your “stings” turned into wisdom, below – let’s keep this Wildcard Wanderings buzzing with honesty, resilience, and enduring hope!